


Winter Sonata

by charmainders, starsmora



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 23:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmainders/pseuds/charmainders, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsmora/pseuds/starsmora
Summary: “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass





	Winter Sonata

Cold winters that have harsh winds begin to fall upon the streets, lining the streets up with lush, thick layers of snow. Houses became snow capped and roads were icy, some even requiring regular shovelling to get rid of the ice. It’s a decent little area, with a small population, and houses were cozy, too. The occasional house would have their fireplaces lit up, to combat against the cold outside, windows frosted from the cold.

In this cold weather, hot drinks would’ve served its purpose of providing some sort of warmth to customers, and that was all on Peter’s mind. Running to work in just a leather overcoat clearly wasn’t enough, because he could still feel his fingertips freeze off, and his legs were shaking with how stiff they were to the cold. Overall? He just wanted a reason to escape the harsh winter. And it was only going to get worse. This neighbourhood apparently experienced harsh winters, and because he had just moved here, it would definitely take him some time to get used to the weather.

Skies across him began to cast soft glows of orange, merged with red and pink, and the sun shining down as it began to set. The colours created a stunning contrast against the snow capped houses along the streets, creating a photograph-worthy landscape. He wished he had his travel camera on hand, as he took his phone out to take a quick picture, before rushing off to somewhere warm he could find, before he headed home.

The roads were beginning to dim with the setting of the sun, when he spotted a brightly lit building that had a soft glow. The lights were still switched on, and from outside, it appeared they had heating systems to keep warm in. Worth a shot, he thinks, as he makes the run across the street. The doorbell makes a jingle as he enters, door slamming shut behind him as he observes the cafe - the roof was made of glass, allowing the remaining sun rays to run in; each table had a little candle, the fire dancing as it traveled down the wick, and the cafe had a rich, vanilla smell that could only remind him of his last neighbourhood home.

He peeled the leather jacket off his body, letting his muscles loosen up to the warmth, enjoying the smell of the cafe. It was rather cozy, and the vibe was wonderful. He could get used to being around here everyday, and by the looks of it, the cafe opened till late at night, too, so he could come here when he wanted.

Business was a little more accelerated than usual for the cozy cafe, stationed in the quaint town. It shouldn't have been surprising, yet somehow it still was. There was something uniform and comforting in visiting the cafe, from its glassy rooftops to the warm vanilla aroma floating through the air. Things here never changed; the same customers would frequent the building often. The same coffees, creamers and orders were made every day, and maybe that's what she loved about working there so much.

Gamora enjoyed the quiet and solitude that the cafe provided her; it was like being a part of a crowd, while simultaneously not being part of one. The idle chit-chat of customers served as the perfect backdrop to the soothing synth beats of pop music churning out of the radios. All sounds to her almost felt the same: comforting, routine and calming. The cafe had a pretty large selection of music that it played periodically throughout the day. No matter how many times the music was cycled, she already memorized the beat and words to every song.

Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that created a waterfall effect from black to a vibrant magenta. It was one of her trademark qualities; all of the customers were able to identify her by her hair. That and her piercing brown eyes which seemed to miss nothing-including the man that stumbled ungraciously through the cafe's entrance. 

He startled her a little bit when he charged through the double doors and her instinctive thought was the rational one: he was in a desperate rush to get away and out of the cold. That was the only logical explanation. Upon closer inspection she realized the man looked younger, perhaps a university student ditching campus for a cup of warm coffee or hot cocoa. One thing she knew for sure about the cafe was that the ventilation system had recently been improved allowing for increased heat.

Not wanting to seem strange or otherwise a little unnerving, she forced herself to stop observing the young man. A natural smile - the kind of processed one she was used to offering customers so much - spread across her face as she began organizing the coffees and creamers, wondering when and what he would order. 

It’s only then that Peter seems to notice the presence of others in this cafe, turning around to look at the counter where the girl stood by herself. He’s taken aback, because somehow, this girl was...odd. Like, not the kind of odd in association to out of the ordinary, but her beauty was overwhelming, but in a good way. It was kind of like love at first sight, really. Peter couldn’t help but feel his heart beat fast in his chest with each passing moment, observing her stunning brown orbs, her hair that cascaded down into a magenta ponytail. Peter, in contrast, had tan complexion, eighties sideburns, and brunette curls that matched his tan skin. 

Holy shit, he think he may be in love.

* * *

Placing his bag down, he makes his way to the counter, wallet in hand as he contemplates on what to order. Impress her with a complicated order, or stay safe with something he always drinks when he goes to a cafe? He hesitates, staring at the girl for a moment, then opening his mouth to speak - well, he wasn’t being very good with his words at the moment, was he? “Erm,” he starts, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “A hot caramel vanilla latte, please, with whip.” Totally smooth, Peter. 

She wasn't easily taken for a fool and the circumstances were no different now as Gamora watched him wandering slowly but surely in her direction. It wasn't a new situation for her; plenty of people came walking through those double doors every day and stood around pondering what drinks to buy. The new customer was just...not shy about it at all, which was a first for her. He was making a show of grandeur in marveling over the menu.

Maybe that's why it was so jolting when he finally spoke to her. She had gotten so used to his silence in that moment that hearing him speak up made her leap. It wasn't a very high or graceful leap, but more of a small bounce but it would be noticeable enough. Quickly smoothing down her forest green outfit and twirling a few strands of her hair to shake off her nerves, she smiled at him again nervously.

“Hi.” Her voice sounded quiet and tiny among the sounds of the music, clanging pots and cups, chairs scraping along the floor and loud laughter. “My name's Gamora and I will be your server for the evening. How can I help you?” by now, she noticed the way his gaze lingered on hers, as his mouth opened to form words that wouldn't come out. “No need to be shy but also no need to rush. I doubt we'll be seeing more customers before nightfall. You are one of the last stragglers, so I guess that means I'll have to wait on you all night.” She rested her chin on her palm while looking at him and smiling. “Ah, a caramel vanilla latte with whip. A classic. Not one for the fancy drinks huh? It's okay. I'll get you your drink now.” She knew her smile seemed to be more of a smirk as she turned away to walk over towards the coffee machine.

His cheeks flushed impossibly redder with the way she stated she’ll be waiting on him, and how his drink was a classic. Was that an insult? He didn’t know. “My name’s Peter,” he mutters quietly, lowkey shy as he introduced himself to her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her - there’s something about the way her hair moves fluidly along with her movements, the way her hips swing as she walks, or how quiet and focused she is when she’s making the coffee.  
“What time do y’all open this cafe until? It’s getting pretty late, to be honest, and nightfall’s coming, it’s almost fully dark out,” he asks, trying to break the tension and getting to know Gamora better, while waiting for his coffee to be done. Maybe he could be friends with her this way, because he did intend to settle down in this little town, but didn’t know exactly if he wanted to. He thinks he might have found a reason to do so.

She found it quite amusing the way that his face became flushed almost instantly; Gamora was no stranger to knowing how to charm a customer. For some reason this one was a bit different though. This “Peter” was more than just any ordinary customer, but she couldn't put her finger on it as to why. “You don't need to be so shy, you know.” She called the words cheerfully over her shoulder as she worked on popping a cap on top of his latte. “I don't bite much. I promise.” Turning around to face Peter, she placed the drink right in front of him along the counter. “This one's on the house. I always like to make a good impression on first time visitors. As for the cafe? It's pretty routinely open until the very late hours of maybe three or four a.m. I know it's almost fully night time, but our cafe is set up to cater to the evening customers too. So...Peter. Can I ask you a random question? What do you enjoy doing the most?”

“Me? Shy?” he laughed rather awkwardly, scratching the back of his nape as his cheeks flushed even darker than it already was. He took the warm drink, letting his hands defrost from the cold that he’d previously felt. Peter was thankful for the free treat, even though he also did feel bad about that. “Thank you, for the treat, I suppose?” he tilts his head with a frown, pondering over her question. For a reason, he was here in this little town to settle down for inspiration to write his music, and maybe start a career there. But he didn’t really know, it wasn’t like he had an idea of what he wanted to do. He glanced around at the empty cafe, wide puppy eyes then refocusing on Gamora as he stood opposite her of the counter. “I, erm...I enjoy music. That’s my first love, really. I moved to find what interests me best. Like a free spirit, maybe. I still don’t have an idea what I want to do with my life.”

“Yes, you. Shy. Shy looks adorable on you. Not many people can look awkward and still seem so composed.” Her smile only broadened when she noticed the way his cheeks darkened with a vibrant redness. For some reason she liked the way it looked on him; it made him seem lively. “Hey now what's wrong? You're welcome for the treat by the way. Think of it as a sample tasting session. If I made your order well, I know to expect you back here again. First impressions are significant after all. I work to impress my customers...and all of my future customers too.” She leaned forward to bury her chin into the palm of her hand and tilted her head to one side. The way she moved caused her hair to tumble like a smooth wave over her shoulder. “Music? So you're a music man? That's fascinating. I've never met a musician before in these parts. Maybe you've found your calling. You must have some sort of an idea of what you'd want to do with your life. I mean you just told me that music is your life. Maybe you're destined to do something with that…” Looking around after a hasty moment, she turned to pull a small round chair over towards the counter and sat on it directly across from Peter. “Perks of working in a cafe: when there's no one else around I can do whatever I want and right now, it's just us two.”

His emerald eyes followed her as she took a seat across from him, sipping his coffee. He gave a soft, wide-eyed puppy look with every sip, as he glanced up from his cup. “I’m just not used to being treated with such generosity, probaby. Besides, I barely know anyone in this town, since I kind of just moved here not too long ago, just last week or so.” Peter shrugged and offered a soft smile as he put his cup down, leaning back in his chair as both of them talked. He couldn’t stop gazing at her; how soft her hair looked in the dim lighting, how radiant her skin appeared to be. He knows he’ll be coming back often for coffee, since it really was to his taste, but maybe that might not be the only reason he’ll keep coming back.

“Honestly? I don’t have an idea what I want in my life. I’m what you would call a wanderer,” Peter’s eyes seem to focus elsewhere instead at the mention of that, “I don’t stay put in one place for too long. If the town doesn’t feel right for me to fully settle down, I’ll pack up and leave, and never return to the same place. You don’t see me in the same place for too long. So far, nowhere has really seemed to fit my needs,” he offers a rather sad smile. Truth be told, he’s been trying to look for somewhere to settle down. Find something exciting and do it. Not continuously travel and never stop, and in the end he’ll just die single and never find what he was truly looking for in his life. He just hasn’t gotten that signal that _that’s_ where he truly belongs, where his heart wants to be.

It was funny to watch the way his emerald eyes skimmed up to lock onto hers and follow her every movement. For some reason the look on his face gave her the impression of a lost puppy; a stray just trying to find their way and place in the world. A place to belong. It didn't really matter what walk of life someone came from. Many found themselves ending up in the same place because of different situations but ultimately for similar reasons. “Generosity is in my nature. I was raised to have good manners. You just moved here? Well I can tell you one thing: out here it's not too hard to make friends at all. You'll find that most of the people here are quite peculiar and particular but there'll be a niche for you. There always is one for newcomers.” Her eyes gently scanned over his face, observing the way the corners of his mouth crinkled slightly as he offered a smile so soft it stimulated a fluttery feeling in her chest.

“You make it sound like being a wanderer is a bad thing Peter. While being one isn't exactly ideal it does have its advantages. You've got to admit that.” Deep down she knew that she was envious of the intriguing Peter. He might have spent his life shuffling from place to place, but it almost sounded like a gift to her. It was because he didn't really know her, not well enough to really know her anyways. She wasn't sure he would ever get the chance. It didn't matter how hard she tried. Nobody ever got to know her. “Moving around frequently sounds nice. I'm sure you get to visit lots of places and sample the world in ways some people only ever get to dream of. Not returning to the same place twice is smart. Chances are if a place doesn't feel like home... _it never really_ was one.” The words wrestled their way out of her throat and her gaze dropped dismissively to the table. She halfheartedly hoped that he hadn't heard what was whispered but a part of her wishes that he did.

“Being a wanderer has its...good and bad,” he looks awkwardly at his fingers, eyes wandering elsewhere but her. He’d never been this open, much less like a stranger. But for a reason, he’d never enjoyed always being settled absolutely nowhere in particular. “Home has been a foreign concept for a long time, since I...left home, for various reasons.” he didn’t want to bring it up, that he was still tender and sensitive to Meredith’s death. So many things went wrong in his childhood, but if he had to choose the most fucked up thing he had to experience for himself, it was the passing of his mother. He knows she didn’t deserve that. And he so dearly missed her, because it seemed like if anyone had the answers to all his life problems, it was her.

“I don’t ever know if I’ll ever find my home,” Peter shrugs, “Sure, I’ve gotten to seen things like oceans and horizons that never end, skies that go from red to orange in a matter of seconds, and lights across the plains of snow covered lands. But at the end, what’s the point if...we don’t fit in anywhere? Home just feels so foreign these days. By the end of next month, maybe I’d moved away again to go somewhere else,” he gives a sad smile, eyes turning to look back at her. This must’ve been the first time he’d gotten so far into his life that he got slightly uncomfortable that he’d told her so much. Peter sighs, adjusting himself in the chair he was sitting in. “I’m sorry. Just...needed to let that all out.”

“Just like everything else in life has both it's good and bad. Unfortunately nothing in our world is perfect Peter. I learned from a very young age that everything in our universe operates on a balance beam. Too much one way or too much another and it tips the scales in ways you couldn't even begin to comprehend.” It made her recall a conversation from her youth, one that she worked hard to push out of the darkest corners of her mind. “Our entire existence and this universe seems all so delicate. It's sort of like an endless maze of mystery. You never know which way you'll go, or where you'll end up. That's just a part of the way the world works, I suppose. It doesn't mean you don't have somewhere where you would belong though. Everyone has a place out there somewhere.” Or at least _almost_ everyone did. 

“I'm sorry that you left home, but I don't really know if you're thinking of home in the correct terms of what the word is. A home isn't just a place to stay or where you feel you belong. A home is a place that you know you can leave, but always come back to. It's a comfort zone. It's a place where you can imagine a cozy warm fireplace and dropping by every once in a while, coming and going at the drop of a hat. A home doesn't always have to be a fixed place. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I'm not necessarily sure if it's a home you're looking for rather than a sense of purpose, neither of which is a bad thing. Just don't get the two mixed up.” She felt the little hairs on her arms beginning to stick up a bit the way they always did whenever nerves started getting the better of her.

“You had a home at some point Peter. While I'm not saying that it's good, since you did leave it behind, I just wish you knew that some people don't even get to have the chance that you did. Some people never get to have a home, a sense of belonging or a purpose.” Her fingers curled around the deep mahogany of the counter and her gaze dropped to his fingers. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, not because she was angry or upset with him; it all just hurt so bad because she sensed and knew how he felt. “You'll find your home Peter. I know you will and I have a feeling you won't have to search much longer for it.” It felt strange to talk about homes...what even is a _home_? What would be a _home_ for her? Could a home even exist for someone _like_ her? Probably not. If it did she would have already found one. “I'm not going to lie to you Peter. You probably will end up leaving this place. This town is just full of nobodies trying to hold onto any reason to be somebody. You're different from the rest of us. You already are somebody even if you don't know it.”

Peter gazed at her for a moment, seemingly unsure what to say next. A part of him knew what home meant to him; but yet he didn’t. Not anymore. He wanted some place to fit in, like a puzzle piece. But for years now, he’s failed to find that place where he fit, like a mismatched piece that never really did have a place it belonged anyway. He wanted to stay here, hopefully, but the way Gamora said it...was this town really that full of nobodies? He felt like a lonely child again, lost as he tried to navigate through rain and pavements that led nowhere. Somehow, he thinks he’s made a friend unexpectedly, and through a cup of coffee that she’d offered on the house. He knows he’s not upset that she sounded somewhat pissy with him. Peter knew that feeling. Sometimes he just couldn’t express that right.

“I’m sick of wandering to places that eventually just grow too small for me to stay. The galaxy’s possibilities are endless, Gamora. Many endings that our life could take. We’re always making decisions every split second even if we’re not consciously thinking about it. But yet these...decisions, I question everyday if they’re right. Whether it’s worth the heartbreak, knowing that if I get too comfortable now?” he laughs weakly, “I’ll just have a hard time saying goodbye to all of that. It sounds odd, coming from someone who just moved here after living in the bustling city life, but even that place, where the people never sleep, I never found home there.” Peter pushes his blonde hair back, another sigh deep within him leaving his nose.

“I don’t ever know if I’ll find home, regardless if it’s the meaning of a permanent place, or the meaning of sense of purpose. I’m just a lost soul, trying to find something to live for.” Peter’s lips curled into a sad smile, soft and almost that of a puppy. “Being on the move is nice, but when you look at the kids that run around, happy with their parents, or even the birds that fly when they’re migrating, it’s sad that even they know where they belong, where they would rather be, and you’re still stuck finding out what you’re really living for, or what your life is really meant to be.” He picks his cup of coffee up, sipping from the warm drink. Perhaps emotional conversations like these were never his forte. Sometimes, as he sat alone at night in bed, he truly wondered if anyone would miss him if he just packed up and left for good, never coming back. Then again, did he really have anyone in his life that cared about him anymore; cared enough about his feelings to perhaps help him out of this spiral of a dark void that he’s inevitably dug himself further into in the last few years? _You already are somebody even if you don't know it._ Somehow, she made that sound so….noble. But yet, he didn’t feel like he meant anything in this universe. He doesn’t even know who he is. Everything she said seemed way too sad for a girl who probably had much more of a future than he himself probably does. His mind races with thoughts, wondering why she sounded so sad and tired. He wishes that he had something he could do for her. 

“Or maybe the place doesn't grow too small for you Peter. Maybe your brain just wants you to think that it does. That's a vicious cycle to be going through; a rinse and repeat type of situation where you travel someplace new and stay there until the walls start closing in on you and then you have to leave again. I understand, I really do. It makes you feel trapped and almost like you can't breathe. The galaxy's possibilities are endless, but some of us just end up as loose or dead ends, and you want to know something Peter? You're not a dead end or a loose one. Every decision you make is worth it, even the unconscious ones that we make every day. It doesn't matter if the decision is right or wrong in the sense that we always choose everything, and choosing not to choose is still a choice.” Her hands began to shake and tremble slightly, so she cupped them around her own cup of coffee and hoped he didn't notice. “Peter. If you don't even let yourself get comfortable, or entertain the idea of finding somewhere that you belong, then how are you supposed to get better? You can't be afraid of taking chances. Besides I don't really think that's who you are. You can be surrounded by all the noise in the world and still feel _invisible_ to everyone.”

This conversation was a painful one for her to be having; she honestly didn't know what to say or do as her emotions clawed their way to the surface. She worked hard to staunch them, push them aside and shove them away, but something about him made her want to open up however slightly. “Only you can decide what's worth living for, Peter. I wouldn't write yourself off so quickly. You've come this far and pursued your search for this long. You clearly have survival instincts of some sort. Just because you don't have your answer yet, doesn't mean you won't find one. Also…” Her gaze flicked up and over his body quickly to zero in on his emerald eyes. “I know you're probably thinking that your life is meaningless, and I have more to live for than you do, so let's assess the situation, shall we? You travel from place to place in search of a reason to live. I spent the past four years in this hellhole of a town making coffee for random customers in a minimum wage paying job, just trying to scrape by and survive until the next day. It's selfish of me, because I'm jealous of you since your life moves forward. It never backpedals in the way that you think it does. Sure you don't have a place you feel that you fit in, but you can keep moving forward to a new place to search for meaning. I get to sit here in this stagnant state of mind and never move forward so much so that I'm an abandoned soul. You're a lost soul. I'm an abandoned one. Nobody ever stays here so I don't let anyone close. Everyone always leaves.” Her voice cracked over the last words she spoke, wiping at the corners of her eyes.

Peter’s eyes turned rather glazed, softening without any knowledge on what was really the right thing to say. He could see in her eyes the broken bits of her that needed mending, but it wasn’t his place to tell her that. He watched as she wiped her tears, reaching to his pocket to pass a tissue over. It probably didn’t mean much as a gesture, but it was a silent thank you. For at least taking the time to console him and give him some sort of comfort, even if they were barely just strangers and they’d only just met. 

“I guess getting comfortable sometimes doesn’t sound too bad, but just the thought of finally being accepted also scares me. I want to so badly be accepted and find somewhere that would let me fit in, but we’re all a little afraid sometimes,” he stares down at his coffee, “I’m sorry. This conversation was meant to be casual and I made it a sob story, and now we’re just a mess.” Peter scratches the back of his neck, trying to think of something good to say that wouldn’t come off rude. “Sometimes even the chances we get are ones that we’ll regret. And I’ve made a lot of regrettable decisions in my lifetime. I don’t want to make the same mistakes, so...in a way, running away before the walls cave in seem to be the way to escape the decisions I don’t want to make. It worked for a while, but now, looking back, that choice was regrettable, too. But I’ve gone too far to erase that mistake, and I live with the consequence of the decision I once made. I just never seem to stop running.”

Peter blinks as she tells him why she’s really living in this town for, why she seems so distant even if this was their first meeting. His lips form a soft pout, like a child. “Hey, for the record? I don’t think anyone’s ever an abandoned soul. Sure, it feels that way, not having anyone in your life that would care for you, but maybe...just maybe a year, five, or even ten? Someone will come by and probably change that, for you. And then you’ll get to experience a new life, instead of this boring one.” He tried to be as honest as he could. _Nobody ever stays here so I don't let anyone close. Everyone always leaves._ God, that sounded so damn broken, his heart couldn’t help but shatter. Who would’ve done that to a girl, causing her to be so torn apart like that? He wishes he knew, but again, it wasn’t his place to tell. Then again, even he is unsure if he’ll leave for a new city and leave her, his new acquaintance, behind.

It was equally strange to see the way Peter's eyes noticeably relaxed, the pinched skin loosening up just enough to give him an endearing puppy dog eyed look. The truth was, she was tired of trying to mend her broken pieces; each time she did, they were always smashed and scattered further apart, until some of them started to become unrecognizable. Feeling the soft tissue pressing against the back of her hand snapped her out of her thoughts long enough for her to take it. Reaching up to her eyes she swiped at the corners quickly before placing it back down on the table. She may need it again soon. 

“Finally being accepted would be a little terrifying, but it's better than not letting yourself achieve what you want. You want to find your place in the universe, but you've convinced yourself that you'll never find one. I think you could. You just need to let yourself open up to the possibility of it. You're far less of a lost cause than you feel that you are. It's okay. I'm never not really a mess. I've just gotten better and better at hiding it over the years.” She smiled at him weakly but it didn't come close to touching the hollowed out center of her eyes. “You're not cursed to run away forever you know. It just feels that way. There's no such thing as going too far with a mistake you cannot fix when it's something that only impacts you. You're not locked into unhappiness forever.” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind one of her ears.

Hearing what he said next caused a jarring pain to tear through her heart. “Peter. It's nice that you don't believe anyone is an abandoned soul. The thing is experience has been my greatest teacher. I've learned that no matter what I believe I always end up back at square one, left to my own devices alone to deal with everything by myself. It's okay. Some of us just aren't even fortunate enough to be lost. Some of us are just...completely forgotten. That's why I stay here. Nobody would care if I disappeared. It would be like I never even existed in the first place. Someone will change that for me? It's cute that you think that. I used to think that way too. I've come to accept that there are just some of us who will never have the life we think we deserve, but I know you're _not_ one of them.”

His heart further shattered at her words. He wanted to offer his consolation and comfort, really, just hug her till she felt better. But that’s creepy, considering they’d just met. Peter offered another smile, rather sad, but a little unreadable. To be honest, even he didn’t know how to feel about all of this. Reaching into his bag, he took a sticky note out, along with his  
fountain pen he’d carried with him for years as he traveled. In his best cursive writing, he tried to write his particulars onto them, including his name, address, and his number. He then tore the sticky note and passed it over to her, sticking it onto her mug.

“If you ever need someone to talk or text to, I’m here. I truly do believe that that anyone’s an abandoned soul. And after this talk we had today? I’m starting to believe that more today. Maybe someone will care in time to come, and they’ll give you what you truly deserve to have,” his chest fluttered a little.”I know we just met and barely know each other, but I’m always open to having sleepovers and movie nights at my house. I promise my house has a heating system,” Peter chokes out a laugh, joking and trying to lighten the mood that he’d turned sour, just talking about his sob story. “Running away has always felt like the right thing to do, to avoid whatever comes next. Maybe I’ll take your advice, and settle down here for good. I’m tired of it already. I think we all are, of being unable to fix our lives. Maybe this is the start of something better for us both,” he holds his hand out to shake hers, “To a new friendship, maybe?”

When Peter smiled at her again, it made her feel an emotion that was not quite articulated enough for her to understand. That happened to her offen where she would pick up on something but her feelings couldn't seem to unscramble what it exactly meant. Being emotionally stunted was difficult, especially when one didn't have the first idea on how to address the situation. Judging by the look on his face she knew she had told him enough. Nobody had enough capacity for her to really express how she felt. It was always too much. Her confusion only furthered when he took out a small square of yellowed paper and began scribbling on it. As he did so, she watched the way his fingers twirled and spun to form words in pretty almost perfect cursive writing. It had been a while since she had seen anything like it. Scanning the small square piece of paper only made her further bewildered as she raised one eyebrow, questioning. Why did he give her his information?

“Someone to...talk to? Well, um...thanks Peter. Thank you very much. That's nice of you. I would tell you that you could do the same but given the conversation we had here I figured you already knew that. You're an interesting person so maybe I will take you up on your offer.” A dry laugh came from the back of her throat. She wanted so badly to believe Peter, but none of it made any sense. If anyone was really going to come for her except for the ones who she didn't really want to see, they should have already been here. It was a simple equation really. She had spent more years alone than anything else, and yet so had he but he still retained a lively spark that somewhere along the lines she lost. “A heating system does sound nice. So does a movie night at some point though to be fair it depends on what movie we're watching. I really don't like horror movies so as long as it's not one of those it sounds great.” Nodding after a moment, Gamora decided she could give him a piece of parting advice for the evening. He obviously looked exhausted, and she wanted to make sure he made it home safely. 

“Some parting words of wisdom, Peter? Running away from yourself is never really the answer. Choosing to run away is almost the same as choosing not to choose. It's still a choice, but it's one that doesn't bring anything good with it. You can't outrun yourself or your problems just by physically moving around all the time. Your past and whatever demons haunt you will follow you everywhere. You need to learn to make peace with yourself, so you can move forward. Maybe it's the start of something but I don't want to get my hopes or expectations up too high.” Reaching her hand out across the table, she shook his firmly. “To being maybe friends, and to the broken and the lost. Those are the people who really need help finding their way. Goodnight Peter. I'm closing the cafe tonight so I've got to stay here a little while longer, you know, attend to cleaning and setting up for tomorrow.”

Her hand felt warm, like it fit his perfectly. He didn't want to get too comfortable here, but yet, Gamora seemed to be helping him more than the last few years of his life has done for him. A grin spreads across his cheeks, nodding firmly. “Don't forget, you're not abandoned. Someone just needs to take the chance and perhaps they're the secret to your heart's questions. Maybe that person is already in your life. You just don't know it yet. But I can promise you that if I do find my answers, you will, too,” he finishes the last of his coffee and gets up to dispose the cup away, and picks his jacket and bag up. “Stay warm, yeah? It's getting colder outside. Text me when you need it. I'm always home after five in the evening. You can drop by anytime,” he offers, then slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Gamora. Rest well.”

With that, he waved over his shoulder and left the cafe, the bell ringing just slightly as the door closed. It was already fully dark out, about eight or nine in the evening. Peter breathed a little, adjusting to the cold again, before walking a few steps. He stopped in his tracks, instead looking back and frowning. He couldn't just let a girl walk home on her own, could he? That seemed kind of rude. He contemplated between being too intrusive, and being kind for spending time with him and giving him some encouragement. Ultimately? He stayed outside, stood by the kerb as the neighbourhood further descended into the dark nightfall. 

It was the first time she really thought that Peter had smiled or come close to it and genuinely meant it that night. His grin wasn't forced; it melted naturally into the other parts of his face and almost seemed to beam vibrantly. The corners of his mouth weren't twitching like they had earlier when he was forcing a smile, but all he had wanted to do was frown. “I think this is the first time you've done anything close to smiling tonight and being genuine about it. I've got to say, Peter, a real smile or rather a grin looks nice on you. I won't forget about that.” She knew she couldn't promise that, but she sure could try to forget or push away the aching loneliness for a while. “Maybe they're already in my life.” She knew that part wasn't entirely true either, but he was working hard to ensure that she felt better and she wanted him to believe it was working. “I'll stay warm Peter. You too. Don't stay out too late okay? It can get frigid cold outside and the last thing you would want is to catch a cold. Goodnight Peter. Get home safe.”

* * *

She watched as he pushed his way through the mahogany doors, listening to the familiar clanging of the entrance bell to the cafe. By now Gamora was aware of just had dark it had gotten outside; the only light to be offered cast by the cafe and its many lit vanilla candles and the town's street lights. Arguably there weren't as many nights like this where she kept the establishment open this late, but it was okay. Taking herself with cleaning up the cafe was always a bit of a process but it never took too painstakingly long. She started behind the counter, sorting through the creamers and dumping whatever was more than halfway used. Of all the employees at the cafe Gamora was the most intricate. She paid attention to each and every detail, including the expiration date on all of the bottles. When the expiration date was coming up or more than half of the bottle was finished she would always empty it and replace it with a fresh bottle for more of a strong, refreshing taste. Moving to swipe a few crumbs off of the counter she headed over towards each table and began sniffing out the candles while wiping them down. The process took a little over an hour until completion but she always felt some sense of accomplishment when she was done. In her haste she had almost forgotten about the yellow square of paper. Running back over towards the counter she peeled it up before crumbling it into her back pocket. She wasn't sure why she was keeping the information anyways. It wasn't like she would let him get _that_ close. 

Walking over to the coat rack she grabbed her jacket which was a pretty simple one by all standards. It was a bubble green jacket lined with packets on the inside that trapped insulation in order to keep her warm on the walk home. It also just happened to be her favorite jacket and even one that she occasionally used in substitute of blankets sometimes. Tugging the jacket over her arms and pushing open the door to the clinking of the bell, she turned around to lock the building before noticing the man standing a few feet away. Narrowing her eyes a little at him she walked over slowly before his face started coming into view and her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Peter? What are you doing out here? I thought I told you to go home. It's too cold to be standing out here like this. How...how long have you been out here anyways?”

Peter had always been patient. Even in the cold of the depths of winter, he was more than willing to wait for Gamora to be off her shift, just so he could walk her home safely, even if that meant freezing his butt off even more by the time he got home to having a heating system being on. He'd gotten quite a view of the town as it darkened further — snowfall began as it capped the houses with white fluff, children running and jumping into snow at the disapproval of their parents, and adults taking strolls together, hand in hand, as they walked together to their homes. Nobody knew, but he was particularly jealous of them all. To be _that_ innocent and happy, he wanted to know how that felt like, instead of going to bed alone and upset. But he didn't want anyone in his life, either, because with how frequent he moved on, he wouldn't want to drag them into something they're unwilling to do. 

Gamora’s soft voice snapped him out of his trance, wide-eyed as he turned to look at the girl in her overcoat. He thought for a moment, contemplating between being honest and lying about why he was still there. _Honesty_ is the best policy, right? “I wanted to wait for you,” he shrugs, “I wanted to at least walk you home. As a way of saying thank you for accompanying me, and so I know that you'll be home safe. It's not that safe after nightfall, and it's cold, too. At least I'll feel better if I know that you're back at your own place, safe and cozy.” Peter gives a genuine smile again, wanting to be sincere like she said. “I only waited about an hour, don't worry too much about it. The neighbourhood's interesting, after it gets dark.”

Gamora couldn't understand why he chose to wait for her. The conversation in the cafe rang bells in her mind that served as a reminder she was still important to nothing and no one. Well she was kind of significant to _someone_ , but she really wished it was anyone else but him. It wasn't like he really cared about her anyways. She had grown used to the idea of the fact that her father never really cared about her. It was true. That's why she was hoping to find somebody else who did but so far the past four years had been nothing short of a fruitless mission. He still hadn't found her yet but she knew it was only a matter of time before he started trying to again. Peter's words cut through her thoughts and caused her to wildly shake her head. 

“Wait for me? Why? I appreciate the thought but I've walked home plenty of times myself from work without much of a problem. I guess I can't really argue with you on this one though. If it'll make you feel better then I guess you could walk me home on one condition. I don't really want you to go walking back out in the cold and I know it's kind of weird for me to offer this but I know this area a lot better than you do. Once it gets dark enough outside the temperatures drop to almost freezing, and I don't really need you getting frostbite or caught in the bitter cold. If you come back with me to my house I have no choice but to offer you to stay with me for the night if you don't mind. My place is warm enough for the two of us. You could sleep on the couch. Don't think of it as a sleepover but more as a favor for a favor.” She met his genuine smile with one of her own. 

Peter listened quietly to Gamora’s request, quirking an eyebrow at the fact that an acquaintance had just offered her house, her couch no less, to let him sleep for the night. Granted it wouldn’t be a sleepover like he wanted to call it, he was more than grateful she’d offered. It wasn’t nice, to be honest, to be intruding on someone’s private space, but considering she’d offered it herself, he couldn’t reject that. Besides, he could go in late to work, so why not? “I wanted to wait so I could at least have the knowledge that you’d be safe home, if I send you. Call this being overly concerned, and mildly creepy, for the fact that we’d just met hours ago, but I just feel obligated to keep you safe, perhaps.” That fluttery feeling he’d felt in his chest earlier returned again, spreading warmth through his veins, like a livewire. Peter knows they’d barely gotten to know each other, but deep down (and he would _never admit this_ ) but he felt like maybe there was something more than just a possible friendship. But judging by circumstances, he shouldn’t get his hopes up at all. She didn’t seem interested, nor did she want that, by the looks of it, considering how she’d continuously tried to push him away by hiding during their conversation.

“I’m fine with that offer, thank you,” he nods and turns back to look at her, emerald orbs now focused on her. “Of course. Just strictly an acquaintance thing, and I’ll sleep on your couch,” Peter reassures her, then looking to the road. “It’s nice, this little town. It’s not much, but it’s rather cozy. I just have a preference for smaller towns, I think? Easier to be there and much friendlier people. Like you,” he laughs under his breath with the words of flattery, small puffs of condensation leaving his lips as he did, “Is your home far from here? By the sound of it, you don’t live too far off, since you walk home everyday.”

“Hey look, I know it's weird okay? I don't need you to be giving me those strange googly eyes!” She took care to ensure that there was a playfulness to her tone so that he would know he didn't really offend her. While she would never admit it outloud, the time she was spending with Peter had proven to be rather amusing. He made her feel...excited, about what, she wasn't sure of. She just knew it had been a long time since she felt anything other than the dull aching pain in her heart. “Actually, Peter...if it's easier for you to just call us friends already you can do that too. Now obviously when I'm working, you would be my customer first and friend second. Since I'm off my shift now, I guess you would be my friend first and customer second. I mean, it's just a lot to keep calling me your acquaintance. It's a mouthful really.” Looking over at Peter, and smirking deviously, she gently reached out to shove his shoulder. “Oh so you're like a mother hen are you? Come to watch over me and make sure I take care of myself? How noble of you my knight in shining armor.” Tipping her head back to look up at him she nodded. “My home is an average distance away. Not too close but not too far. A balanced distance if you would.”

Every single tease only made the blush on his cheeks (already there since it was so damn cold out) darken even further than before. She was so good at teasing the hell out of Peter, honestly, that it made him feel shy and like a little school boy again. “Y-yeah, calling us friends would be nice, though we hardly know each other that well,” he tilted his chin slightly downwards to look at her, hands now in his coat pocket. “Well, if you wanna put it _that_ way...it doesn’t sound too bad, really, but I’m just looking out for you, really, and every time I drop by the cafe, maybe I’ll do this every time. Make sure you get home safely from work and then head home myself.” Peter was being generous, but he was also being incredibly sincere about all of this. She’d made him realise something tonight and he wanted to continue talking to her, to perhaps maybe find himself. Kinda like a therapy session, but without the fees and just between two people that understood each other, and not between two strangers that hardly had any relation or understanding. Maybe cafe visits could be the way for him to socialise, and a way to be closer to her, and get her to be more open to him. “Lead the way,” he points to the empty road, “I’ll follow beside you.”

“You want to know something else I've noticed about you Peter in the short time we've spent together? It really isn't that hard to make you feel flustered. There's just something about looking up at you and noticing the scarlet color flushing through your cheekbones. You know what's even sillier? Thinking that somehow I'm able to bring that color into your cheeks. Or maybe you're just very easy to tease, I don't know.” She giggled a little at the way he seemed to become so shy. “Listen we can call each other friends if that's something you want. I know we hardly know each other but there's a chance you might wind up leaving this town anyways. Better to be able to call one person here a friend than to leave without making any new friends again, and just chalking it up to making one acquaintance.” Tilting her head to one side curiously she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made a good enough impression that you're definitely going to drop by again, _are you_? That's good. That's what we'll call this I suppose. You can start heading home yourself once your body can adjust to the frigid cold at night. It's better that you show up late to work than sick to work.” She flashed him another quick, almost endearing smile. It was hard not to completely melt around the infectious presence that he created. “Has anyone ever told you you're the living embodiment of a person who could walk into a room, and everyone just lights up? What is it about you Peter?” She stopped to look up at him, even stepping closer a little and staring up at him. “I don't know what it is about you, but there is something that I like.” The conclusion was simple enough as she nodded before stepping ahead of him, and thinking twice, extending one hand out behind her for his. “Not to be annoying or anything, but do you mind holding my hand? That way I know you're always following me. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder every couple minutes.”

 _Holding hands? Teasing? Being complimented?_ What was this, elementary school? He didn’t know how to feel about her honesty and teasing. Nobody ever teased him as much as she did, and he was certainly blushing way too hard about this now. He could just brush the blush off on the cold, really, but she’d already caught him off guard. “Yeah, I’ll return to the cafe,” he nudges her shoulder with a soft snort, “You definitely made some good coffee and company. The next time I come by, I’ll be paying for my own drink.” Peter took the scarf around his neck, then folding it and wrapping it around her neck to keep her warm, even if she didn’t want it. It was a silent gesture of comfort and affection, even if they were just friends, but he found himself already beginning to care for her even so. He’d watch as she stepped closer to him, body heating up and heart fluttering. “I don’t have any idea, but I guess I do have that effect, judging by how you like me for that, and how you’re still talking to me. By now, people would have gotten bored of me and tried to find ways to ignore having a conversation with me about music.” Shaking his head, he reaches his hand, much larger than her own, and intertwined their fingers. He held hers comfortably, then glancing at her. “I don’t mind holding hands. It’ll keep you warm, too, and that’s nice.”

His lack of response only made her chuckle harder; she knew exactly what she had done, catching him in her trap so he couldn't fake his way out of admitting the blushing. “You're pretty uptight Peter. It's okay to let loose every once in a while. I'm glad to provide quality entertainment and a warm beverage anytime. It's about one of the only things I'm actually good at doing.” Naturally she was taken aback, when he reached around to wrap the scarf around her neck. Looking up at him she smiled and shoved his shoulder again rather playfully. “Oh, stop downgrading yourself, Peter. You're not that awful to talk to. Other people probably wouldn't keep continuing a conversation with you solely on the basis that they didn't know how to. You're a pretty chill guy and very interesting to talk to. I'm the annoying one around these parts of anything, like how I've made this entire conversation revolve around you, instead of about me and have actively avoided answering or divulging anything about my life whatsoever. I'm a walking mystery.” She laughed again as he grasped her hand within his own. It felt big and warm against her smaller one; comforting and promising. “I just wanted to make sure you don't get lost. Do you like to run?” 

“I’m not that interesting, Gamora. Shush,” he nudges her with his elbow, frowning a little with a quiet laugh. “I can be awful to talk to, you just haven’t experienced that yet, because when I don’t wish to talk to anyone, I end up shutting people out by putting on my earphones,” Peter’s grip on her hand tightens slightly, then swinging their arms a little in a rather childish manner. “Honestly? That’s okay. I’d rather hear about your story. Mine’s too boring, anyway, so why not? You may be a walking mystery, but I’ve yet to reveal most of myself too, so you’re basically letting a stranger into your house that _could_ be a murderer or someone running from the law, you’d never know,” he teases, beaming with an amused smile. “You provide quality company, that’s for sure, and I think I might return to the cafe for more of that too. Maybe at least twice a week, I don’t know. Scratch that, make it three times a week.” Peter turned to look at her better - her hair had a soft reflection of the moonlight, but he could also see the way her hair cascaded down into a soft magenta that reminded him of the sunset from earlier. She was rather petite, but she looked so adorable, he just wants to hug her. That sounded so much better in his mind, now that he thinks about it. “No, I don’t like running. Running from my problems, maybe,” he snorted at himself, “But I prefer music. Like I said, I moved here to see if I’d get inspiration to write music, and maybe release that.”

“You're more interesting than you want to give yourself credit for. If I wanted to be overbearing with my compliments I would dare go so far as saying you're the most interesting man in the galaxy. Now we both know that probably isn't exactly true but...wouldn't you rather accept the title of at least being remotely interesting?” She couldn't help but let out a snicker at the way his brows furrowed together. It was amusing to observe the way he frowned whenever she was essentially complimenting him, and to her it was a sight to see. “You say you can be awful to talk to, but I see nothing before me but a man who is very passionate about music, maybe even singing and wanting to become a singer or songwriter. I see a person seeking out their meaning in the universe. What could possibly be so boring about that? So what you're saying is if you don't want to talk to someone you just tune them out like anybody else would? More importantly, you haven't shut me out yet because you actually want to talk to me? Now that in and of itself is pretty amazing.” 

Her heart soared when she felt their hands swinging together in a seamless motion; the way their fingers brushed against each other reminding her of the first and only time she held hands with someone else. In fact, when he squeezed her hand just a tad it was as though she felt the same pressure seizing around her heart. It wasn't the kind of pressure that made her breathing feel restricted but rather made her feel relaxed. Pressure on the inside was being released. “My story isn't anything special. It surely isn't that different to your own. Your story isn't that boring. Man runs away from home on a quest to find meaning in the universe. In a way it's almost poetic; there's plenty of stories and legends about people doing those kinds of things. Who knows? You may just turn out to be a legend yourself.” She nudged him again playfully with her elbow before composing herself. She probably owed it to him to at least give away a little of her story whether it was the truth or the more fabricated, sugar coated version of it.

“Believe me when I say this Peter: I know that you are no murderer. You don't have the qualities or skills to be one. An outlaw? Perhaps that's a little more plausible but a murderer?” She laughed nervously in response and hoped he didn't notice just how anxious she had become. Murderer. The word wasn't common in such casual conversation and Gamora knew Peter only meant it as a joke but to her the word meant something more. “I'm just like you really. My parents died when I was young. My sister and I were adopted into a pretty strict family. I'm just out here in this quaint little town attempting to make enough money to get by, while trying to complete my studies for my degree. Don't worry about asking what my life is like by the way. Most people always feel sorry for me whenever I mentioned what's happened to my real parents but…” She trailed off after a moment, her mind getting lost deep in thought. _Time of death: 9:36 p.m. Cause of death indeterminate._ Shaking her head after a moment she perked up again, as if the cloudy haze of thoughts never crossed her mind. “I just don't like when people feel too sorry for me I guess. I've had what most would refer to as a pretty rough start to life but I'm still here making the most of it. I would much rather be remembered and talked to about what I've accomplished and gained in my life versus what I've lost.” For now it was the most she was willing to talk about.

“You're really going to come visit me three times a week? I wouldn't want you to go out of your way like that. Besides, I'll always be there or around in town, so maybe you can catch me someplace else. Clearly the cafe is nowhere near your living quarters.” Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Peter observing her and slowly lifted her chin up in a look of stubborn defiance and strength. If he wanted to look at her and get a good look at her he might as well look at her when she was at her best. “Sometimes you just need to jog your mind to get inspiration. Our brains are like clocks. They move on their own but when we turn the dial forward they can move faster. Or think of your mind like a movie with moving pictures. The only way to get those pictures moving and the film reel rolling is to move.” She paused walking to stare at him before grinning massively. “Let's go for a run. You won't regret it.” Before Peter could object the petite girl had turned herself forward again, and the heels of her boots scuffed against the cold blanket of snow beneath their feet, her hand holding tightly onto his as she charged forward through the snow.

* * *

Before he could truly reply, he’d let himself be tugged by this girl he’d just gotten to know, hand in hand, as they ran together and charged through the thick layers of snow that had formed overtime when nightfall had become more prominent. His laughter came out in puffs of condensation through his lips, his low, husky voice filling the air as they ran back to her home together; obviously he wasn’t out of shape, but running just wasn’t his thing, honestly. Sometimes he wonders how much energy this girl truly has, he’s pretty damn sure she’s been working the whole day, serving so many customers, which some potentially could have been irritating, but now, late into the night, she’d just offered to go with him on a run home. The run wasn’t that long, probably a couple of minutes, before they reached her home. He stood by the pathway, grinning at her and observing her quietly.

“I’ll try and visit you at the cafe when I can. I don’t work everyday, and most of my shifts are mid-day, so by the evening I’m usually done with work.” He’d found a job as a singer down at the pub, and it’s usually quiet, but he enjoys it that way. He gets to sing to his heart’s content, and although the pay isn’t that high, it’s enough for him to at least pay the rent and still have probably half of that cash to save up. Then again, rent wasn’t that expensive in this little town. “The cafe’s just down the street from my house, actually. I’d pass by it regardless while I’m on my way to and fro from work, so don’t think too much about it. Just think of it as a casual meet up between friends!” he giggles and squeezes her hand tightly, tilting his head with a soft grin of his own.”I don’t like to be home all the time, anyway. Exploring the town is nice, so why not? Take it as an excuse to enjoy the sights the town has to offer.”

Something he’d noticed for a while in her, ever since she started talking to him back at the cafe, was the way she held herself. Back in school, he remembered when teachers used to chide girls for being too rowdy and un-lady like by screaming and pulling. But Gamora _wasn’t afraid._ Her words held a lot of weight when she wanted it to, but could also be light as a feather when they were teasing. And somehow, that felt powerful. She knew how to use her words as her weapon and that in itself was something he desired he could have. He’d never been the best with his words, and certainly, Gamora’s ability was admirable. She wasn’t shy to admit to the things she so strongly believed in. He wanted that strength. He’d always been too timid to say anything and be straightforward, afraid of hurting other’s emotions. It’s just been that way for a long time, even far beyond when he’d started moving.

“I’m really not that interesting,” he waves that thought away, sniffling from the cold and laughing at it. “I’m just a potential musician with a job that’s unconventional. And a boring wanderer who continuously runs from his mistakes and his problems. I haven’t tuned you out because you’re really interesting to talk to, but if I don’t really expect much out of a conversation, then I’ll just lock myself away and pretend not to listen.” Peter looks at her with puppy eyes again, eyebrows furrowing just slightly as he did. “You say all of this as if you think you’re not interesting, and your say claim that your story isn’t that special.” he starts, being as truthful as he can. “I think otherwise, really. You’re quick-witted, intelligent, and rather charismatic. I admire that. You speak with depth in your words, and our conversation tonight really gave me some insight that I haven’t had in years throughout my constant state of travelling in a bid to fulfill my need to find something that could help me to settle down. I didn’t expect much out of a cafe visit, even now that you just invited me into your home because it’s too cold out. You’re really kind too, so thank you for that.” Peter smirks a little, “Sometimes all I ever talk about is music. I don’t ever stop and really, it can get annoying. That’s why people usually don’t ever keep in contact with me when I leave that town, because they deem me to be boring.”

He listened quietly and attentively to her words. Suddenly his heart sank and he felt sorry for her, in a way that the guilt in his stomach somewhat turned to nervousness. He could remember the night he’d gotten to the hospital, running in thick depths of snow too, and that would’ve been the last time he saw his mother. _Flashes of her heartbeat monitor going up and down as they signal that she’s still breathing, but soon all that goes to hell when her hands lose their grip and he loses her for good. She’s gone, he remembers hearing, and that’s when he truly began running away from his life and problems. Before that, he thought he had it all in his life. But he ran. As far away from his own childhood home, to find something to compensate for the loss and emptiness that the loss of his mother had created within his soul. If he were bold enough, maybe he didn’t even have a soul anymore._ “I guess we’re both not that different,” his smile now falters to being somewhat sad, “I’m just trying to find answers and get by life as best as I can manage to do that. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m just making the most of it, as you would say, from life experiences.”

Even while holding his hand and having the knowledge that he was following her, she still kept tossing her hair periodically over her shoulder to glance across at him. It was silly to have to check on him as often as she did but there was an irrational fear in the back of her mind that he would somehow slip away. The sound of his laughter was equally soothing and thrilling. All Gamora could do was hope that one day Peter would realize how energizing his laughter was. It wasn't that kind of forced laughter but the type that just rolled off the tongue naturally. It was beautiful. The sounds of his laughter were enough to encourage a low set of giggles from her throat. When Gamora laughed even quietly the sound was refreshing and calming. There was an innocence to it that wasn't present in the majority of her other behaviors; a last spark of her childhood perhaps that had still survived through the years of destruction. The jog had left a few icy crystals creeping along her cheeks, and a few pieces of stray frost scattered through her hair. For the first time in what felt like years Gamora sensed a bounce in her step. There was just something so invigorating about spending these few hours with Peter that she couldn't put her finger on but maybe she wasn't supposed to know the answer. Perhaps she was only supposed to enjoy the moments.

“Hey, like I said before, it's okay. I understand you've got a life too, a job to attend to and your own duties. You don't have to promise me anything. I know that you'll drop by when you can and if I don't see you around it won't be that big of a deal. Lots of people make promises all the time that they struggle to keep. I wouldn't be mad if you broke yours. That's why I try not to make too many promises myself.” It briefly crossed her mind to question him where he worked but she wasn't about to do that. It felt weird and out of place. “Really? So you don't live very far from where I do then. I'll try not to think about it too much. A casual meet up between friends...I think I'd like that very much Peter. I mean, to have more meetups casually with someone I could call a friend.” Although Gamora wasn't actively seeking out friends or even acquaintances it seemed only right that she referred to him as a friend. He sat with her for hours and even waited up for her after closing, both of which things he didn't honestly have to do. She was still puzzled by Peter's actions but decided not to question them further. Some things were better left unsaid. Becoming acutely aware of the added pressure along her hand she squeezed his back softly. 

If only Peter knew how interesting he actually was. She could tell right off the bat that he would never be able to fully comprehend his true potential to be an interesting person. The truth was from the moment she had met him he had managed to be somewhat of an enigma. Gamora just couldn't seem to figure him out. Each time she thought she solved a part of the puzzle that was the man known as Peter Quill he would always manage to pull out a wild card and surprising her. He kept _surprising_ her, which was both refreshing and terrifying. In a town that was full of predictability a person like Peter Quill happened maybe once in a lifetime. Wanderers never seemed to settle or even temporarily stay in quiet suburban towns like this one. She just wished he knew that his very presence in the town that had otherwise developed a dreary reputation was magical. 

“See that's what I don't understand about you Peter. Are you too humble to see just how amazing you are? We've only known each other for a few short hours, but I can already see the fantastic qualities that live in you. You're a man who is a musician just trying to pave the way in the world. What's so wrong with that? If anything it’s admirable so a daring decision given your occupation. Becoming a singer surely is no easy feat and is a job for dreamers. I guess maybe that's why I'm a bit envious of you. You live in a world full of big city dreams, but you thrive in a town that's of an average population. You know what your dream is and you chase after it even when the expectations you have to meet for it and the requirements seem unrealistic. Even with statistics against you it still doesn't phase you out. You're not boring for running away from your problems. All of us find ways to run away. The fact that you can recognize you're doing it takes bravery.” She was quickly learning what responses engaged the puppy dog eyed look from Peter which was one she was growing to adore.

“If my story is interesting there's no reason that yours can't be either. It works both ways. We both really aren't so different from one another. Our stories check out similarly, therefore I can't be more interesting than you, or rather you can't be as boring as you're trying to make yourself out to be. As for aiding you in your quest to find meaning, I'm glad to provide any insight I can offer. I'm far used to the feeling of having no place in the universe so I know what that can be like. My kindness is nothing short of what you deserve. You've been fairly patient with me all night, and for that, I'm particularly grateful. By now most would have given up on having a conversation with me yet you keep finding ways to keep one going.” Her lips formed a loose smile over at him but it surely didn't meet her eyes and barely reached the corners of her mouth.

* * *

It would happen sometimes at random that the memories would take over. They came in shattered bits and tiny flashes, sort of like strobe light memories. That's what it felt like when she recalled the plastic blue and red lights that danced through the sky that night along the side of the road. _Blue and red. Blue and red. The colors flashed through her mind as they blinked steadily across the street. The blue and red lights kept shining over her eyes every few minutes. Cutting through the eerie fog were small beams of bright white light. She remembered hearing that they were called flashlights. The blue and red lights made very loud noises. Before they arrived, more blue and red lights came too. These blue and red lights belonged to a red truck. The only memories she had of it were that they had these little plastic rolling carts with beds on them and that's where Mom and Dad went._ Looking up at Peter she nodded after slowly processing her thoughts. “You're just trying to get by in life but you've already done so much more than that. There is no greater or harsher teacher than life itself. People lose others from all walks of life. We're not defined by our losses so much as how we move forward in dealing with them.”

 _Peter? Don’t forget how special you really are to mommy, because you really made my life a whole lot better than it already was all those years ago. If you ever get lost, someone will eventually pull you back to shore. Like a lifeboat finding a lost person and helping them back. Eventually they will stay in your life and you’ll find the happiness you’ve been wanting. Mommy has to go now, just promise me you’ll be okay out there. I love you._ Peter couldn’t stop thinking about that. Getting by life has always felt like a chore more than something that’s routine to him, something so incredibly repetitive that he’d rather not experience ever again. He’s already lost himself to the not being able to find what he really wants to live for, and the moment Meredith died? A bit of him died, too. He never understood why life was so cruel to someone so kind and understanding. Life kept taking what it wanted from him - his mother, most importantly. _She didn’t deserve that. She should be here right now._ This was the only time in the last few years he’d ever truly felt breathless, not in a bad way, but in a way that could only be expressed through laughter and wide, toothy grins. He’d just felt happy for the first time in a long time. He didn’t understand it either. What was it about the girl that he felt so damn compelled to walking home with, sitting down to have a conversation with, and getting to know better?

“I’m just being honest about how I deem myself to be. I just think that there’s really nothing much to know about me other than the facts that I’m a wanderer, an aspiring musician, and that I’m looking for inspiration whilst I work a normal job. If anything, my life just feels mundane. Regular. Somewhat meaningless, too. It’s just a cycle of waking up, doing my job, and then going to sleep without finding that inspiration that I’ve been seeking. When I’m ready? I’ll pack my things, and then I leave. It’s just a cycle that’s never stopped for me in a long time. And like I said? Anything is possible. Living in a town with an average population doesn’t mean I won’t find what I want. It’ll just mean that it’ll take me longer to find what I’ve been seeking. Sometimes I just want to settle down instead of continuing to run, y’know? I’m sick of not finding answers and continuously trying to move on even though my heart tells me not to, because I’m so tired of it.” Peter casually shrugs, talking about it as if it’s no big deal. “I guess my heart will never know where it truly wants to be in this world.”

Peter ran his thumb over her knuckles gently, offering some comfort for the solace she brought to him. “I think you’re an interesting person, Gamora. If anyone’s boring, it’s me. Like I said, I’m just finding a reason and an inspiration. I’m sure you have some place in this universe, it’s just that it hasn’t really been revealed to you, or you haven’t really found it. Afterall, you said you’ve been staying in the same place for years. What if moving and going somewhere else can help you find those answers? You can run with me, I know we’re only friends, but I’m offering you the opportunity. We could run somewhere else together, give each other moral support, and find our answers. If we don’t? Then we keep running. Conversations aren’t my best suit, but I try my best to do so. I’m glad and genuinely surprised that you think I’m not boring. If I were you I would’ve stopped talking to me by now,” Peter offers a tiny, but sad smile. It’s not his best, but he’s not exactly feeling the best either. Right now, if he’d gone home, he would’ve just curled up and wallowed in self-pity that he’d spent another day being uninspired. 

“Maybe you're being honest about how you think of yourself but I'm just telling you that your perception is flawed. We all hold ourselves to unrealistic standards and expectations. I certainly don't think you are being fair to yourself. You claim that your life feels mundane but I think it’s anything but that.” Naturally one hand extended out to clasp onto his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “No but really. At least you're not stuck serving coffee to strangers all the time. It could always be worse. Just because I'm good at what I do, doesn't mean that I like it. The cycle is no different for anyone else. We all have to go through it. Sometimes it feels like life itself is designed to keep us always unsatisfied but then what would I know about that? I'm just a young person trying to figure out my point to survive. Your heart will know where it wants to be.” Looking up at Peter she made a clicking sound with her tongue before shaking her head. “Maybe you've given up on yourself, but I'm not giving up on you, not yet. Sometimes your heart doesn't long for a place so much as a person to fill the void. A home isn't always a rooted spot.” 

Her heart felt heavy as his fingers brushed over the spaces in between her knuckles and fingers. “I thought we just went over this. You're not boring if I'm not boring. Or we can be boring together. How come you can give me all of this advice but you can't take it and use it for yourself too?” She stopped short when Peter proposed his idea and froze. Run away with Peter? It was...maybe something she would be interested in but it wasn't like they had known each other for very long. What if they weren't compatible long term? What if they were just good at handling each other's company in small doses? “So we would run together around the world? Peter…” She bit her lip and averted her gaze. She didn't give him an answer and instead turned to unlock the door to her home before ushering him inside towards the couch. “I can go get you some blankets and a pillow if you want.”

The way she said his name sounded so fond and adorable, that in this cold snowy weather, his heart may have just melted. He genuinely didn't mind having someone with him as they go on the run together to somewhere else where they could genuinely find another start and begin again. He wouldn't be lonely anymore, and he'll have someone by his side. But of course, if Gamora didn't want to do it, he wouldn't force it on her, because he knows that these things can't be pushed upon someone. “It's just a proposition; if you don't wish to take the offer, I'm fine with that, I swear. No feelings harmed,” he follows her into her home, standing by the doorway for a split second before he moves to the couch like she'd told him to. Peter could sense the tension as she tried to brush the topic off. “Some blankets and a pillow would be really nice. Thank you, Gamora.”

 

While she was away getting his stuff, he looked around her house, soaking in the sight and taking a glimpse of how her life looked like — quiet, simplistic, easy. It's so in line with her character. His attention focuses back onto his bag, taking his walkman out, a gift from his mother. _I want you to have this,_ she’d told him one night, _I know you love music like mommy does. So you can have it. Take care of it, yeah?_ Peter took the current cassette out and replaced it with the other that was in his bag, and plugged the headphones in. He set it by the table, sighing as he recalled the faint memory of Meredith. Sometimes, even in situations where he didn't want to think about her, he found himself missing her. The way she danced around the house to the radio, the way her skirt flowed along, and how her singing was a perfect melody to every song. _You've always been mommy’s boy._

* * *

“You do realize you don't have to speak so formally around me all the time Peter? I'm not at work anymore. I do appreciate the offer and I'm not entirely dismissing it just yet. I'll keep it on the table for my consideration. That's an awfully huge proposition to be offering someone who you only met just a few hours ago. Then again maybe I'm the perfect person to offer it to. Like you I've got nothing really keeping me grounded here except for my job at the cafe and...let's be honest with ourselves it really isn't all that much. I'm satisfied by the little things in life, but I never would have imagined myself living a life that feels reduced. At least if I were to run with you there would be new sights to see and places to explore. I'm just not quite sure if I'm suitable for a mobile life. I'll tell you something though - it's definitely an offer I'm thinking about.” She looked over her shoulder at Peter’s frame before shrugging her shoulders. “In regards to the pillow and blankets, not to worry. Or I should say you're welcome instead but you know what I mean. You're my guest for the night. It’s only fair that I treat you with hospitality.”

Gamora lived a life that was governed by manners; many were learned while others were just incredibly odd habits she had picked up on over the years. One such habit was attending to being a good host for any and all guests that entered her home. Kindness and generosity were important, but they were meaningless when ingenuine. Strolling over towards the closet in the opening of the hallway, she snuck into her hiding place behind a small tower of stacked boxes of hand towels before peering out at him. In one hand he held a funny looking cassette player, or so she assumed that's what they were called followed by a tinier square piece lined with rolls of tape. The cassette player itself appeared as an ancient relic of the past that she knew better than to question about. Everyone held sentimental values to a varying standard, and so that’s what she had thought the little machine was supposed to be. Not just a relic but a living memory and maybe even the last of its kind.

Pulling open the closet door Gamora’s eyes scoured through the little openings of the door to catch slivers and glimpses of the cassette player. While she had never had the privilege of owning one for herself, Gamora was always fascinated by the small machines. More specifically she found it amazing that the little devices could play a wide track list of songs. It didn't matter that a majority of the songs were from younger generations, because to her music is timeless. In fact a lot of the music she preferred to listen to happened to be classic. She observed the way Peter brought the headphones to his ears and unintentionally began humming the beat to a song she hadn't heard in years. She was sure he wouldn't be able to hear her over the sound of his own tunes. At first her humming started off low and nearly inaudible but as she busied herself the beat seemed to increase in sound. Running her hand over the top of the closet shelf and dusting it off she settled on matching bed sheets and blankets in a blue star print pattern. Lugging the bedding materials over towards Peter along with a spare pillow, she hadn't noticed if he took out his headphones yet, lost in her own little galaxy of thoughts.

The words came back to her slowly but as they did she began whispering them aloud. Her head moved to a beat that seemed to come from nowhere else but her own mind. Unfolding the sheets and prepping them to drape across the couch her low humming started up again except this time with the addition of words: “Ooh child, things are gonna get easier...things will get brighter…” Her head and body started swaying to a tempo that only she knew, all the while not considering that Peter might be hearing her sing while setting his bed.

The cassette was the last thing he had of his mother. Nobody really appreciated eighties music anymore, listening to all the pop music that sometimes made no sense at all. Sure, he carried along his phone and had mainstream music apps like spotify on it to help him keep up with the latest songs for his job, but he truly couldn’t get past the eighties. His heart was stuck in that era of blinding neon colours and big hairdos. So when he began to hear humming, his head snapped up. His headphones weren’t fully in, so he could hear everything clearly as it went on around him. He turned to look at the brunette, raising an eyebrow as he observed her. The way she hummed to Ooh Child was so calming, so sweet, there was no way for him to feel absolutely in love with that warm, fluttery feeling that had begun to form in his chest. He gladly accepted the pillow and the fluffy sheets that she held in her hands, but he was much more interested in the way she hummed to the music. That was way more crucial right now than the couch she was setting for him to sleep on.

When the music came to an end and it begun to play the next track, he turned the volume on the player down and put it on the table, headphones still plugged in. He got to his feet, putting his bag on the ground and turning to look quickly at Gamora. “You know the words?” his grin is wide like a little child, full of childish wonder and amazement. “It’s hard to find people that appreciate the eighties like I do. The only people that really do are the older generation, unlike me. I sound so old when I say that.” he nervously laughs, then sitting down on the couch. “They don’t sell these items anymore either,” he picks his cassette up and shows it to her; the casing in blue and its markings in silver. The headphones had a form of orangey foam on it. Inside the player was the cassette itself, the wheels of tape running in rounds as the music continued to fill the house. “I kinda miss those days, they were so much easier than they are now. Would pay to be that innocent, young child again.”

In her haze of getting lost to the music Gamora didn't notice Peter removed himself from the couch and was now standing in front of her. The way the realization struck her was when she turned and face planted into his chest. She froze up just a tad, limbs locking in place as she retracted back from him slowly. Her cheeks were flushed in the slightest amount mostly due to embarrassment at walking right into his chest. “Sorry about that. I...I was getting lost in my head. It's a bit of a problem sometimes because I start wandering in my mind and become less...observant of my surroundings.” She tugged at strands of her hair to pull them over her cheeks in hopes of concealing the blush there. “To answer your question I do know the song. It was one of my favorites as a child. Sometimes I still hear it if I put on the eighties radios or a playlist. It was the last song I heard together with my parents and it became my song shortly afterwards. I always find myself humming along to it after a long day. I don't know, but I find it comforting and reassuring. Maybe one day things will get easier for me or maybe they won't.” She shrugged her shoulders. Humming was something that came to her naturally, to fill the silence of her home when the TV wasn't on. If there was one thing to know about Gamora it was that she never did well with silence.

“I listen to pretty much anything music wise. My taste is always changing but there are always a select few songs from each genre that carry around with me. That just so happened to be one of them. Eighties music isn't really as popular as it used to be but I'm sure there are others out there like you.” The way Peter's features softened at the sound of her humming caused a flippy sensation in her heart. Was that even possible? Her heart was doing somersaults in her chest at the little lights that danced within his eyes. “Eighties music just lights you up like a Christmas tree doesn't it? You're not that old...but while we are on the topic of ages, how old are you exactly? You never did tell me that.”

She couldn't mask her own excitement when he brought over the cassette player. Reaching out to let her fingers trace over the spooling roll of music on the outside of the case brought a smile to her face. “It has been some time since I've seen anything like this. Amazing that it still works. It's probably almost as old as you are.” A twinkle entered into her eyes as she nudged his shoulder teasingly. “I think we all miss those days when we weren't older and didn't have responsibilities. There are things you can do now that you wouldn't be able to do as a child.”

He hadn’t expected to see Gamora so flustered, but he got exactly that as she ran into him, face first to his chest. He’s a lot taller than the girl is, and his body is incredibly muscular and chiseled. His cheeks slightly flushed too, but it was a rather painfully adorable sight to see the well composed Gamora get all red and attempting to use her hair to cover her cheeks. Nobody tell her, but Peter could still see the way her cheeks were now dark. That blush on her cheeks made his heart all tingly, pumping faster and making his muscles tense up at the feeling. He could live with this.

“Wow, you make me sound really old,” he nudges her knee, pouting cutely, “I’m only thirty-five. That’s not old, is it? Maybe older than you are, but still,” Peter continued with the pout, much like a puppy demanding for affection and attention. “I guess you could put it that way. The first time I left home to run and find something in my life to bring more into my life, I contemplating truly leaving everything behind, except for just my belongings and what I really needed. But I couldn’t leave behind this cassette. I guess in a way it’s like an anchor to remind me that if I needed somewhere to return to one day, when I’m done running, home would always be waiting for me. And perhaps one day that’s where I’ll return. To Missouri. Where I grew up, where most of my childhood was until I started running.”

It was the painful truth, but it was something he always held onto. Sure, there wasn’t anything left at home for him, and if he really did go home, all he’ll return to were the sad memories of how his mother passed and how he missed her so dearly. He doesn’t ever know if he’ll one day return to where his life started. It’s been years since he went home. “Being a kid would be so much easier, not having to worry whether I’d fit into this community, whether I’ll stay, and whether I’ll continue running for the rest of my life and never find a home. But I guess all those are just silly worries. I shouldn’t over worry about those.”

Peter observed as Gamora took a look at his cassette, her slender fingers running over the features of the little device that continued to play. Sure, some of the corners were beginning to yellow, and the cassette needed some dusting, but it worked just fine like it was just made, and this was the first day of its usage. “Music has always been a way to remind myself of certain things. Eighties music just has more symbolizes more things to me, like how others have little toys or memorabilia that they associate certain things with. Sure, I like the latest music, but my heart will always be won over when I see a vintage turntable, or when there are shops that still do sell these little cassettes with full albums on them. God, a turntable. They’re expensive these days, one of those could easily fetch _thousands_ of dollars on the market. Pop in a record from _Frank Sinatra_ or _Elvin Bishop_ and you could dance the night away, a glass of wine in hand,” he reminisced, laughing quietly.

Just as he mentioned _Elvin Bishop,_ the familiar tune of _Fooled Around and Fell In Love_ rang through his ears, causing him to smile rather widely. He picked the headphones up and adjusted the length of them, having an idea in mind. He looked to her. “Here, listen to this.”

“You can't be serious! You're thirty-five? You definitely don't look it. I figured you were older than me but I didn't suspect you were that old. It's not old really. I'm just a bit surprised that you don't look as old as you are. You look maybe like you are thirty-two at best. That's a good thing because it means you'll look nice longer. Not that you don't already look good.” She caught herself and paused to shake her head. Gamora didn't want to give Peter the wrong idea; she wasn't interested in him like that. “What I meant to say is it's not like you don't already look nice. I mean that you look good but you could pretend you didn't hear it from me. Friend to friend you've got some decent looks going for you that will probably land you a pretty good relationship once you find somewhere to settle down and all, you know...build a home. All that stuff.” One hand reached up to run through her hair anxiously. She hated that feeling of what was comparable to secondhand embarrassment, so embarrassed for herself that somehow she managed to accumulate sensations of extra embarrassment in the process. All she could do was hope that he didn't let her off guard compliment give him too much expectation for something that would never happen.

“You are right about being older than me. I'm only twenty nine but my birthday is coming up soon...in a few weeks actually. I've never really celebrated it or anything. Never had any time to or anyone to celebrate it with. I'm honestly not sure why people make such a big deal out of birthdays anyways. Birthdays are just painful reminders for me of all the things I didn't accomplish the year before. I guess they're kind of equally good and painful; I'm reminded of what I didn't achieve but it motivates me to try harder to reach my goals. The only thing I've come to expect is never getting that chance to move forward. I just figured I would mention now that I don't enjoy or remotely like my birthday so that you don't feel obligated to make a whole spectacle of it. I just treat it like any other ordinary day. Usually I just stay at home and marathon movies on the television. Nothing very special or out of the norm for me.” Rolling her shoulders again, her fingers traced over the little circular dials of the audio tape. “It's a nice trinket to connect you to the place you've come from. I've always thought it's kind of important to have something aligning you to your roots. Even if it's somewhere you never want to visit again it still grounds you and reminds you that your memories are real.”

“Are you sure?” Gamora whispered after a moment, looking up from the orange headphones extended out in front of her. “I don't want to break it out anything. It's evident that the little machine means a lot to you.” She curiously stared at the small instrument but refused to make any advancements at first. “What if I drop the headphones?” She knew it was a weak excuse but there was more at stake here than just listening to a song with a fellow friend. The situation was quickly becoming one where she could feel herself slipping and losing control. Her pathetic attempt at avoiding taking the headphones was just another act of defiance against the unfamiliar fluttering feeling in her chest. Eventually curiosity got the better of her and her fingers reached to trace over the base of the headphones before picking them up to place around her ears. The music immediately filtered through her mind and she couldn't stop herself from clinging to every last lyric that ran through her mind. 

Peter knew the signs that she was nervous about accepting his headphones and putting them on. “Go ahead, try it. The headphones don’t break easily. It’s been with me for over twenty years,” he laughs at that, handing the headphones over. With further assistance, he helps her to put the earphones on. He can faintly hear the familiar tune of the music blaring through the headphones, and grins a little as she seems to get absorbed. Truly, he didn’t mind sharing his music as long as the other person enjoyed it as well, and so far, Gamora seemed to take well to it.

* * *

The next time she took the headphones off when the music stopped, he takes it back and wraps the cord around it neatly, and places it aside so they could both have a proper conversation. He leaned his weight a little on his side, propping his head with his arm so he could look over at him. “I’m _almost_ thirty-five, if you wanna be technical. My birthday’s at the end of the year, maybe sometime just after yours. Externally I’m thirty-five but internally I’m a really young child that has never matured,” Peter shrugs, placing his hand on his thigh. Never has he been complimented about his looks, and to be fair, he’s never had proper one-on-one conversations with people much. When she said something about relationships, he waved his hand in front of them, as if there was an insect. “Pft, decent looks but a boring personality, who wants that? I doubt anyone really sees much in me. Other than you have, surprisingly, for how short a period of time we’ve been talking.” He was being painfully honest with her - why would anyone want to settle down with a guy who wouldn’t stop running from what he currently has, just to avoid his problems with himself.

“For twenty nine?” he pats her arm, the feeling of their skin touching making his skin form goosebumps, “You look like you could pass for maybe twenty. You have some good looks too,” he compliments him, being truthful about what he felt. He thought it’d be nice for her to hear the truth from his lips. The mention of birthdays just hit too close to home, he knew that feeling. “I stopped celebrating my birthday when I was barely ten. Never saw the point of it, either. Birthdays are just...for the sake of remembering of growing up, and it’s painful sometimes. I just wish to stop growing up,” his eyes and smile are sad, glistening like a piece of glass as he hastily tries to wipe at them, avoiding trying to be emotional. “Travelling has been the only thing I ever care for anymore. When I’m ready to leave, I tell nobody and I just pack up and leave. Nobody really cares anyway. And besides my belongings, the cassette’s one of the only things keeping me sane, as a memory of whatever I left behind. But I don’t ever intend to return home. Not like there’s anything there for me.” And it’s nothing but honesty. No point returning home, he’ll just end up running again. Peter wiped at his eyes again, then smiling. “Don’t mind me. I’m just being emotional. My sob story is boring.”

“Oh so you want to get technical now?” Gamora giggled before rolling her eyes. “Even if you were thirty-five today you still don't look a day over your late twenties, if that. You have a late birthday? I've never met anyone with a birthday at the end of the year before she watched the way Peter treated his cassette player with care and knew some part of herself was turning soft. It was hard not to just melt while observing him. “You don't seem like a young child but rather a man who learned to grow up and carry his childhood along the way. There are a lucky few of us who can grow up in more ways than one and still preserve our youth and imaginative spirits. I think you're one of the lucky ones Peter. Your imagination will never suffer, not like how it would for someone who really grows up and away from all of that.” Her shoulders stiffened as she narrowed her eyes at him. “What is with you being self-deprecating all the time? I told you this once and I'll tell you again: you may think that you are boring but there is nothing boring about you Peter. The definition of boring is a person who doesn't grow...like _me._ ” The words came out flat and almost even bitter; she knew it wasn't Peter's fault that her life was like this but she couldn't express just how much it ate her up inside to see him berating himself. 

Lifting one finger up to hold it in front of his lips she stared at him levelly. “This isn't up for debate or conversation by the way. I know that you think I'm not boring but I've never let myself grow beyond what I've become here. You might tell me that I could still do it and maybe that's true, but the truth is I know that I won't. A lot of things in my life were decided for me. The first conscious decision I ever made for myself was choosing to come here. Now I don’t know if you know what it’s like to have everyone else make the decisions for you but I do. I'm not dependent on anyone anymore but I never want to be like that again. The only way to stop it from happening is shutting everyone else out.” Her eyes grew dark with something deeper than just sadness. “It’s too scary for me to do anything so I live my life in fear all the time.” Wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, she shook her head. “It hurts. Just stop...stop...stop telling yourself that you can't have what you really want. Stop telling yourself nobody would want you. Some of us have too much baggage to be worth anything to anyone, and no, I'm not talking about you.”

Her shoulders squared off as her body stiffened in annoyance. Maybe this was why she never did end up really making any new friends; she always got too jealous or too hard on herself for the things she didn't have. At one point those were all things she did have but she gave it all up. At the end of the day there was nobody left to blame but herself. “I'm sorry for being so harsh. I just...I can't deal with someone else feeling the same amount of sadness I do. It's so much.” Her voice started to break and crack in shudders. “It's all so much for one person to feel this way. It's bad enough that I have to feel this way. I don't want you to feel this way too.” 

She had heard him complimenting her but the words practically flew over her head. “I just...I just want you to know that no matter what somebody will always care, okay? You're not too broken to be fixed. You're not that far gone. You've got the heart to get better.” She didn't have the energy to whisper her next words: that she didn't. She didn't know if it would be overstepping boundaries or not, so she was careful when she leaned forward at first. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and when she noticed Peter didn't stiffen or pull away she immediately tugged him into a tight hug, her face burrowing away into the creases on his shirt as the two stood there together. The only sounds exchanged between them were those of quiet tears that splashed onto his clothes, and shaky breaths of a crying, tired girl. 

He’d listened to every single word, every last word she had to offer, noting the way she tensed up and stopped after a moment. Before he could truly say anything, he feels her arms on his shoulders, body heat increasing as her body made contact with his. He thinks he should push her away, but he doesn’t. Peter’s been so touch-starved for years; running all the time didn’t exactly grant him the chance to properly settle down and be able to be close to one person that he could confide in like Gamora had just done with him. He didn’t exactly have an idea how to be the confidant in their blossoming friendship, staying still as she hugged him tight. It’s only when he begins to feel his shirt becoming wet with tears that he realised the gravity of how severely needy Gamora is for someone to understand her, and this might be the first time in years. They weren’t so different, after all. Gently, he places his hand on her back, patting lightly and holding her close to his own body, whilst using his other hand to brush her hair out. He begins to notice how smooth her hair is, how soft her curls are as it goes from brunette to magenta. 

Peter’s chest flutters with a dull ache, somewhat knowing the feeling. Most of his childhood was also decided for him too, or as he would have said, created by circumstance. He thinks if Meredith didn’t die all those years ago, he would still be happily living with her back in Missouri, maybe even settled down with a girl and married, with a stable job. Instead he’s now running, trying to find answers, with nothing more than just his belongings, a worn out cassette, and whatever little sanity he has left. He opens his mouth, only to shut it again. This wasn’t the right time to rebut and offer his opinion. Not when she was crying in his arms, needing some sort of comfort from him. If she could trust him like that, telling him her insecurities, all the more he should just listen to it. And cherish this friendship while they were at it. Because he knows this feeling was rare to come by.

* * *

The next time she pulled away, Peter reached to use the back of his index to wipe the corners of her eyes, then taking his hands away and tucking them in his pockets. “I don’t see it as self-deprecating, rather in a way staying humble. I don’t like holding myself too highly to something, and then be told by someone that I’m not that of high standard like I think I am. Believe me, everyone grows and nobody stays the same, even if you don’t think so.” He bites his tongue, trying his best to figure out what to say next. It seemed they weren’t going to bed anytime soon without finishing this topic. “I know you said it isn’t up for debate or conversation but that’s just how I feel. For the record, I grew up by circumstance. Whatever I had, I took it. I didn’t get decisions either. Somehow I wished I grew up differently,” he quietly fumbles with his fingers in his pockets, trying to divert his gaze away so he wouldn’t cry. He really wished he had Meredith right now, someone he could talk to and find confidence from. “Don’t worry about being harsh, I’m not affected, I promise. It’s just that I already know how it feels without having to be told what it’s like. And that’s the sad part. I wish I never knew what that feeling is like at all. To have a chance to live the life I want instead of running.”

She was still surprised that she worked up the courage to give Peter a warm embrace. It had been years since she had fully registered physical contact with another person. Of course it happened very often where she would interact with others because of the cafe and get in little physical contact between serving orders but that was different. It wasn't for fun or for comfort or anything else...but the hug with Peter was something she never knew she needed until her arms were wrapped around the back of his neck. For maybe the first time in her life Gamora allowed herself to step back and unhinge some of her personality. When his hand rested up against her back she paused to look up at him with tear stained cheeks. Nights were usually awful for Gamora so it wasn't anything new...except for the fingers of the man who was now caressing the soft waves of her hair. Now that was new.

“Where did you learn to do that?” It was an involuntary question that formed, before she had time to really think about what she was asking. “For someone who doesn't settle down in one place...you're not so bad at comforting people. For someone who always leaves others behind? You're not afraid to let them confide in you. You might not trust other people with your heart, Peter, but you trust them enough to let them share their stories.” Wiping at the corners of her eyes she smiled pitifully. “I've cried myself dry many nights when I was by myself. Cried until nothing could come out anymore except for itchy little spots of burning pain in my eyes. I can tell you having someone to cry with makes the experience feel a little less daunting.” Even when she had stepped back from him her hand lingered along his shoulder. It was her turn to return the favor.

“I guess I can see how you might think of it as a way of remaining humble. It's just the way you say it doesn't really make it sound that way. It sounds like you're trying to purposefully subvert and demote yourself. Then you use the act of being humble to write off your inability to accept yourself as more than what you believe you are and so we end up here. I could be wrong about that Peter but I have been told I have a sixth sense when it comes to this sort of thing. There is always going to be someone out there who tells you that you are less than what you're worth. That's why there are people that hate us and love us. 

“As for what you said about growing…” She turned to look out the window at the icy frost crystals forming along the sills. It was a painful but comforting reminder of what was to come next. “Growing doesn't always mean in a positive way. I'm saying even if we all grow some of us don't grow the way we need to. That's why I think of humans as plants.” Her voice sounded far off and a bit distant. “People are like plants. Plants can grow in positive ways. Plants can also be killed by growing weeds. We all have our own gardens Peter. I just know mine is dying because I've given up. That's all there is to it. So whatever it is that caused this-circumstance or otherwise, I've got no reason to grow further. You will always have the chance to live the life you want Peter. That's up to you to decide. As for me?” She resumed looking back out the window, a shadow crossing over her eyes. “My choices are still being made for me.”

* * *

_Where did you learn to do that?_

_Mama? Why are you crying? He’d asked one night as he caught Meredith crying in their little bedroom, still awake after she’d put him to bed. Mama, are you okay? He was more than concerned - he hardly did see her cry. In the dim moonlight, he could see the dark red under rims of her eyes, clearly tired from all the crying. She didn’t say anything but bring him close and hug him tightly. Peter, being the innocent child he was, could only lightly pat her back, and brush his tiny, child fingers through the same blonde hair like his own. She’d sobbed into his shoulder, tired and needy for affection. When she pulled back, all she did was look at him, holding him by the shoulders._

* * *

He blinked - and suddenly all he saw was the low light from the fireplace, Meredith’s face now contorted to the sight of the brunette, but her eyes were just as bloodshot as Meredith’s had been. He thought briefly, unsure of what to say, before he did. “It just felt right,” he lied, not wanting to try and be sad anymore, when Gamora needed him here to confide in. “It’s always in the TV dramas. When a friend is crying, they tend to brush the other person’s hair out, and they speak quiet words of encouragement, right?” Peter asked, trying to joke a little to make a decent attempt at lightening the mood between them both. “I”m sorry about the crying. You deserve a lot better than going to bed upset and tired every night. If I could change that, I would,” he gives his honest, best smile now.

“I know what you mean by negative growth.” he seemed to turn and look at the snowy crystals on the window sill, watching the snow outside as it continued to fall freely onto the streets outside. “I just think that maybe you need the right conditions to grow. They say plants need air, food, water, and light right? Maybe you just need time and someone to be there for you. You said it yourself - you’ve been in isolation, by yourself for a long time.” He offers his hand out, letting her take it to hold it in hers if she wanted. “Everyone has a reason to grow even after they turn old and it’s their time to leave. Even you do. I’d do anything to help you grow if that means staying put here in this town and being there for you every step of the way,” He truly felt for this girl he’d just met. Something about her made him want to get to know her better, be closer, and be her backing if she ever needed it. Because if anyone deserved it, she did. And everyone should have a companion in their lives.

For a few moments Gamora said nothing but enjoyed the outstretched silence between them. Sometimes it was nicer to just share silence with a companion instead of talking through the painful, twisted emotions. She couldn't thank Peter enough for just standing there beside her, and for what it was worth offering silent support. “It’s funny how you say that you're a less than stellar guy, really. You seem to be a lot better at this than I am. For the record...between just the two of us, I know you're going to find someone who loves you for all that you are. Your mother would be proud of you.” She reached her hand out to gently catch onto his, clasping it tightly.

She knew better than to think she could erase Peter's sadness; that wasn't something she could do for him. It didn't mean she couldn't offer alternative remedy. “Not everything works for everyone in the same way but maybe you're right. Maybe I do just need someone to actually be here with me to help me see the things I can't. It's not like you are an exception to that rule either. I have a feeling you need a person like that just as much as I do. Maybe we could be that person for each other? I'll be the first to admit I'm no good with emotional support...but I find dealing with others’ problems a lot easier than my own.” All the while she spoke to him her hand never left his. The way her palm fit so perfectly against his, made it seem like it was meant to be there.

Hesitantly letting go of Peter's hand she moved towards the front door and grinned at him. For some reason spending time with Peter awakened an almost childish mischievousness within her. “Hey...enough of that sad nonsense. I have a surprise for you!” Snickering as she pushed open the door to rush outside, she made a beeline around the back of her house into the blind spot. Peter wouldn't be able to see her there, or the consequent ball of packed, cold snow that she carried confidently in her hand. Sneaking around the edge of her house she waited for Peter to come into sight before scrambling forward and vaulting into the air. As she did so, she twisted around to throw the snowball. The cold ball of frost landed with a triumphant slam into the center of Peter's chest and it was the surprised look in his eyes that made her start laughing again. “Peter...you look ridiculous! What happened to you? Did you get in a fight with a snowman?” She couldn't stop laughing as she noticed a cloud of puffy crystals clung to his hair. “I didn't think I would get you _that_ good!”

 _Your mother would be proud of you._ If only Gamora knew the true reason why he started running all those years ago. A sad smile flashes across his lips, trying to at least show that he was thankful for her kind words, not wanting to really share his story. Not that he didn’t want to share it with her, but she didn’t need anymore of that negativity tonight, where they had the luxury of keeping warm and companionship. Finding someone who would love him was a joke to him, lowkey. He didn’t know if anyone would take one look at him and just want to be with him. And to be fair, he was always running. He couldn’t afford to settle down in one place all the time and this was the reason why, even in his mid-thirties, he was nowhere near married or having a life with children to care for. He wanted a family, in all honesty, but he knew it was just a white dream, never meant to come true for him.

Listening to her offer to be a companion he could rely on, he ran his fingers over her knuckles again and nodded earnestly. He liked the sound of that. Finally being able to find someone and confide in them, and do the same for them too, felt wonderful. Maybe it would be too good to be true, considering he’d run again in the months to come, but it was better than nothing, even if it were for a short period of time. “I think I’d quite like a companion. A non-sexual friendship with benefits, then?” he nudged her arm with a soft giggle, trying to joke about it. “In all seriousness, I’m up for that.”

His emerald eyes followed her at the mention of a surprise. As she went back outside, he followed suit, walking to that blind spot she’d been hiding at. “Hey, it’s cold, don’t you think we should both head back inside and stay wa-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, before he felt a snowball thrown in his direction, hitting his chest and leaving a wet patch there. He quickly feigned offence, picking up a snowball and throwing it back at her, aiming it for her face. “What was that for?” he laughed, standing there and trying to brush out the crystals all over his body and his hair. He was shivering from the cold, holding his arms, teeth chattering. “It’s so cold!” he ran back inside childishly, intentionally leaving the front door open so she could just run in and close the door after she entered. He couldn’t stop shivering, it was that cold outside. “You got me good, Gamora, but I’ll get my revenge at some point, mark my words,” he mock threatens her, pointing a finger at her.

Her eyes sparkled with endless amusement as the crystal ball of snow smashed into her hair and formed a cloud of frosty dust. By now Gamora's hands were starting to lock up from the frigid cold outside. As much as she wished to continue fooling around in the snow the goosebumps appearing on her arms were indicating it was time to go inside. Bounding through the doorway behind Peter breathlessly, she leaned forward and gasped for a few minutes. It had been quite a while since she had run so hard and quickly like that. “I did that so you could have fun Peter. I felt like you could use some cool down time figuratively and literally. It distracted you from whatever was making you sad, right? So obviously my plan worked.” 

She turned around to stick her tongue out at Peter and cross her eyes in a silly mocking gesture. “Oh sure Peter! Sure you will. I'm sure I'll pay whenever you decide to exact your revenge. Mark my words...you won't be getting revenge. I don't think you are the type for that and besides, this is my home. I've lived in this town longer than you. I know my way around the area. There's no way you could take me by surprise.” The crystals in his hair were starting to bother her, so she reached up to dust them off. The cold snow melted to the touch at once as she gestured over towards the couch. “Come on Peter. I'll lay down with you for a bit if you want. Like you said before non-sexual companionship sounds good to me...and besides, those few covers won't be enough to keep you warm. Think of it as having a sleepover with a good friend. There's only one rule in my house...I need to sleep with the TV on. It's comforting for me.”

Even if he didn’t wish to admit it, somehow that little run and snow fight did help him clear his mind and focus on what was happening now rather than the past. It was nice, to be that childish again and forget about everything for a while before going back to reality. Her planned worked very well, and he would have to give her props for that. Reaching out to her hair, like she did with his, he began to comb his fingers through hers, making sure her hair was free of snow before smiling and listening attentively to her request. He didn’t mind laying with her, nothing sexual, just friends that were seeking comfort in each other. He could do that. He didn’t mind.

Laying down on the couch, he peeled his boots and socks off, setting them by the fireplace so they could dry off by the time he had to wear them again in the morning. He lay his body onto the sheets, sinking into the comfortable feeling as he did. Peter adjusted himself slightly, and pat the space beside him. Her couch was big enough for them both, so laying next to each other wasn’t going to be a problem. He could already feel his eyelids begin to close, considering it was getting late, and he’d been out for most of the day, at work and at the cafe, and now her humble abode. He glanced up to her, widening his arms and inviting her to lay in his arms. “Come here,” he grinned, _“I’m all yours for tonight.”_

Gamora wasn't sure if he would realize her hair would trap the cold and wet since it was much longer and thicker than his. Nevertheless she appreciated the gesture of him clearing the chilled crystals from strands of her hair. If she didn't know better she would think that Peter just liked running his fingers through her hair. “Peter, are you sure you're not just very taken with the idea of feeling my hair in between your fingers? Not that I'm complaining or anything. I've just noticed you enjoy touching my hair.” She quickly winked at him before nudging his side again. There was arguably something fun about teasing Peter, maybe because he was so receptive to it and knew she was only kidding around. “I've come to the conclusion that you're obsessed with my hair probably more than me.” She flicked him gently beneath his chin with her index finger before stepping away from him.

While Peter was busy setting himself up to sleep, she turned her attention to the TV set in the far corner of the living room. It was at a diagonal angle from the fireplace and angled just so it would be in full view of the couch. Turning on the TV set a frown crossed her features. She had forgotten to turn off the news channel the last time she used it. The screen was full of red and blue banners with a reporter stationed outside of a technological institute building. “Why are these people always on my TV? Is there really nothing else to create reports on? When will people learn to mind their own business…” Her eyes skimmed over the news headline about scientific research and life beyond Earth, both equally sore subjects for her.

Peter's voice was the only thing that reminded her he was still in her home and after a moment she quickly changed the channel to a dramatic movie. “Sorry about that. I mean...I didn't mean to go off on a rant as if you weren't here or whatever. I just get tired of hearing about people sticking their noses where they don't belong. It's almost like every other time I turn on the news there's some other published report being made about scientific research and life beyond our galaxy. Why can't people just...I don't know, be satisfied with where we are living? It's annoying. That's why we have all of these ridiculous sci-fi movies where people do these experiments and then oh no, suddenly it backfires because it turns out we didn't know as much as we thought. Then a bunch of people die and the whole project gets destroyed and shut down. If people understand that enough to market movies out of it I don't know why they keep going after it.”

Gamora knew the rant wouldn't make as much sense to Peter as it did to her but then she also knew things he didn't know. She wasn't exactly comfortable sharing any of that information. “I'm coming, I'm coming…” Her voice was a quiet mutter as she walked over towards the couch. Dropping down to sit alongside of him she looked at his extended arms curiously. What was she doing? Did she really think this friendship thing was going to work out? It didn't work out any other time she tried but she decided she was too tired to care. Sinking into his arms, her head sought out the crook of his arm and the warmth of his chest against her damp hair. “Peter? Thanks for staying over tonight.”

Peter watched from his angle as she set the TV up, waiting for her to join him on the couch. Part of him was screaming at the fact that he barely even knew her and they were already skipping formalities and proceeding to _cuddling,_ on her couch no less. But the other part of him fought against that thought, not really caring. He’d made a friend tonight and he was beginning to feel the starting of something welcoming. It made his heart feel warm, really, that he could easily trust her, even with the little time they’d spent. The news created dark shadows in the dimly lighted house, blue and red lights flickering as the reporter worked through the news. He frowned at her rambling, not really understanding it and why she was so worked up about the news. Maybe it was just discomfort for such things. It did make some people anxious, after all.

“For what it’s worth?” he adjusts the pillow slightly higher so his head could comfortably rest against the armrest of the couch, “Life among the stars in the near future could be possible. With how technologically advanced we are becoming? Anything within the next thirty to forty years could happen. It’s just a matter of time,” he shrugs and keeps his gaze on the TV, now showing the movie. He didn’t really have time most of the days he worked to lay on the couch to just watch the programmes, so this was a first in quite some time. “I guess all of us have different views. How we take that particular research and manifest it into something bigger is another story. Kinda like our lives,” Peter’s eyes now turn back to look at Gamora. “It’s okay. The rant was a little worrying, but I’m fine, I promise. With me, you can rant about anything you want. I’m always here to listen to it.” Sure, sometimes it wouldn’t make sense, and he didn’t fully comprehend what she said earlier, but at least he could offer a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on if she wanted that sort of comfort.

He saw the way she looked at him when he widened his arms for her, still apprehensive that she would take the offer of sharing some warmth and being comfortable. But alas, he was proven wrong when her body moved to lay partially on his, causing him to flash a rather bright and genuine smile, as he wrapped his arms around her back and hold her close. Her body on his was easily the best thing against the cold he’d felt all day, and unconsciously, as if he was confirming what she said earlier about her hair, his hand softly ran through each and every curl, untangling the knots and at the same time hoping to lull her to sleep. “It’s no big deal. I don’t start work till mid-afternoon, then I work till the evening, sometimes by five, and sometimes by seven, I’m home. It depends on my work shift. So, like I said, I’m all yours for tonight. Don’t think too much about it and just get some sleep, yeah?” he whispered quietly, eyes almost falling shut. His hand reached for the blankets, covering it over them.

She shrugged her shoulders at Peter's question and felt the warmth of his body pressing against hers but it wasn't enough to distract her from the growing discomfort. “I know you don't start work until midday but still. You didn't have to stay if you didn't want to but you took the offer so...thank you.” Her words were muffled as the blankets were dragged over the two of them. Looking up at Peter her mouth ran dry a little with the overwhelming desire to tell him everything but she knew better than to do that. His reaction alone to her outburst told her everything she needed to know. It wasn't his fault that he felt uncomfortable with such news as life beyond Earth. It was uncomfortable even for her...but as Peter had said earlier, some people grew up by circumstance. She was sure this would be one of those times. Out of the billions of people in the world all the circumstances would somehow align to bring her to the moment she was in now. 

“No. You don't understand what I mean when I say people should stop exploring things that are beyond them.” This was the closest she had ever gotten to really talking about this and she instantly regretted it. “Can we just forget I ever mentioned anything about this? I should have never said anything about it. I'm sorry. I just...it's a personal thing for me more than anything else. Science doesn't have a very good history in my family. It's caused more problems than it solved. It has never done me any favors. It's caused me to lose more than anything else.” She dipped her head back into his wandering fingers and forced her eyes to close. If she didn't do that she would stay awake all night long. “Goodnight, Peter.” It was a signal to the end of their conversation and shortly afterwards her breathing fell into the steady, slow rhythm of slumber.

* * *

Sleep came easily that night but it wasn't the act of sleeping that was so unnerving for Gamora; rather, it was the dreams that came with it. Not even Peter could staunch the unending nightmares that plagued the edges of her mind. Nothing would be able to rid her of them. The TV's sound on low in the background was one of the few things she knew would aid in filtering out the nightmares just enough for her to have continuous, unbroken sleep. Every night started off the same way as it did before; she would fall asleep, eventually lulled or forcing herself into slumber that started off peacefully but ended with her panicking awake. Would tonight really be any different? 

_My Gamora._ She could see him with her eyes; he was right in front of her just a few feet away in her living room, or what her mind imagined to be her living room. He was standing there with one hand outstretched and a big grin on his face. _My Gamora...why did you run away?_ Whether it was dreams or reality, that question always struck her with such a magnitude that she was frozen to the core. _Well, what is it? Where have you been? Your sister and I have been looking for you._ She stood before him, un-moving, unable to look up into his eyes or see his face. Her breath came out in shaky, audible gasps as she looker at his scuffed shoes. Father, I'm sorry. I had to, she murmured as she stepped forward, one hand reaching out to his tentatively. You know better than to run away from home. Why have you done this? Did you think I wouldn't be able to find you? Those words were the ones that tormented her most because she knew they were true. It didn't matter how many years she spent away from home, because he would always find her. _No, Father. I was just hoping that if I left after a few years maybe you would come to your...senses about things. That maybe you would stop._ He laughed a hearty laugh and clasped one hand onto her shoulder; and even though she was consciously aware, the feeling was so real that she shuddered up against Peter. _Oh child, why would I stop? I could not give up my destiny in the universe even for you. I've finally found my calling. I thought you would be proud of me. I gave you and your sister a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a home. Was that not enough for you?_

Gamora lifted her gaze to stare at him with a steely expression. He was always doing this - trying to guilt her into feeling bad or otherwise for running away from home. He always took every situation, no matter how serious and turned it on its head to create a sob story for himself. _Cut it out, seriously. You act like me running away ruined your life. I ran away so that I could have a life of my own...one where you can't control me all the time. Now that I've finally found it, you're just upset._ He laughed again before placing his other hand on her shoulder, and this time she jumped in her sleep against Peter; twitching and whimpering as she did so. _Oh my clueless daughter. You're a fool if you think you ever had what you wanted. I let you get away for years because it wasn't your time yet...but you and I? We are destined for a greater purpose. I’m telling you now: time's almost up. I'm coming for you and you won't even know it. Remember the promise you made?_ She was beginning to twitch and cry harder now against Peter's body, squirming and thrashing in her sleep. Her heart rate accelerated as her breath came in ragged gasps. _I know you remember Gamora. Ever since you were little...you've always been my favorite child. One day, you're going to help me…you're going to help the universe. You've always wanted to do that._ Her screams now became audible words in real life; her body still locked in slumber as she yelled at nothing: 

_“I want to help the universe but not the way you're doing it!”_ Her cries sounded pitiful and small as she desperately tried to wake herself to no avail. _It doesn't matter what you want, Gamora. The future is upon us. You are meant for this future as is your sister Nebula. You refused me once and for that you'll pay. You won't get the chance to do it again. Oh, and you better not tell anyone about what I'm doing here...I'd hate to see my greatest project go to waste._ All she could do was writhe and sob up against Peter, her body twitching as it was stuck in a perpetual nightmare on a loop. 

_My Gamora._


End file.
